Enter the Complimentary Follow-up
by Dr. Cat
Summary: Some friendships are timeless, others are for a season, but for one warrior and medic, it's a mystery.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: All the characters involved in this story are copyrighted to Hasbro and their respective creators and were used without permission. All concepts in this writing reflect the author's ideas and not that of the copyright.

 **Enter the Complimentary Follow-up**

Chapter One

As the distinct whistle of mortar fire pierced the air, a trembling mech hunkered further underneath a clinical table awaiting the inevitable explosion.

It came as expected.

The shiny, red cybertronian covered his audiles as the building shook with such force the walls were left vibrating long after the shells landed. It was incredible the windows hadn't shattered yet.

"Please, stop," he pleaded in vain as more projectiles shrilled through the night sky. He was quite accustomed to the sound of distant artillery blasts and laser volleys—just the commonplace clatter of a planet at war—but being trapped inside a blockhouse near the highly coveted Vos' relics during a firefight between the Autobots and Decepticons had his survival protocols keyed up to the max. Grant it, he had chosen this line of work for its excitement factor, but he never signed up for this.

In fact, he shouldn't even be here. He was supposed to meet up with a nonaligned medical team near Uraya, but circumstance—and the possibility of a lucrative prospect—lead him here. It was supposed to be a simple 'get in, get out' assignment. Just patch a few bots, grab a few parts through _questionable_ means and head back to the safety of neutral territory. Unfortunately, no one on either side of the conflict got that memo.

"Why couldn't they wait one more cycle; just one more lousy cycle?" he hissed as another barrage of shells violently rocked the facility. This time, the windows did buckle, raining down glass and fiery debris on the center's workstations and examining berths. The symphony of combat rushed in tenfold at the breach causing the young medic to wince. Soldiers screaming, cannons firing, sirens wailing, leaders shouting, engines roaring . . . it was all he could do not to fold in on himself in a fetal position. What on Cybertron had he gotten himself into?!

With the heat levels increasing due to the newly broken windows and his own heavy venting, he decided it was time to try and escape. He had hoped remaining in the medical wing of this old fort would have afforded him some protection. Certainly, the Decepticons would keep defending this area fiercely and if the Autobots did break through he could easily sell his worth as a physician to them. However, neither scenario mattered if the annex was destroyed in the battle; just another case of collateral damage. That's what appeared to be playing out.

He crawled out from under the desk, visibly shaking and trying to stabilize his wildly thrashing spark. As he rose to his pedes, the lights went out and he happened to glance up just in time to see the blistering trails of missiles flying past. It felt so surreal and yet so tangible to him; the timeless sights of war were disturbingly mesmerizing.

Suddenly, the once automated doors to the room were forced open. He whirled around, servos thrust upwards in surrender. With all the terror of life and death in his voice, he cried out:

"Don't shoot! I'm a medic!"

There was a charged moment of silence in the dark until the emergency lighting flickered to life.

"Doc? Is that you?" asked the much taller, bulkier mech standing in the now open doorway. A look of recognition passed over the medic's features; a mix of relief and resentment. He was glad for the familiar face, but this bruiser was one of the reasons he was caught in this whole mess, to begin with—not to mention the big lug seemed to have an unjustified aversion to using his name. Nonetheless, it was amazing how quickly abject terror could switch to indignant aggravation.

"I said to call me Knock Out and of course it's me! Who else would it be?!"

"Sorry! I just wasn't expecting you to still be here."

"Granted, but if you haven't noticed, I'm just trying to stay online here!"

"I can see that. Might have helped if you stuck with me and the others in the first place."

"Right, and if I had just left you to sort things out on your own I wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. I am the only doctor in these parts still willing to help the likes of you, I might add."

"And I'm very grateful. That's why I'm here to take you back to the Decepticon bunker," the other mech said with no bitterness in his tone.

"Wait? The bunker?! What bunker? I thought you and the others said you weren't affiliated with any faction," Knock Out shouted in a mix of anger and renewed fear. He'd heard all about Decepticon bunkers. Highly fortified, underground storehouses reserved only for the most precious of resources and once locked down, no way in or out. Something about being whisked away to some cavernous warehouse rubbed his sense of freedom entirely the wrong way.

"I didn't say anything. You never asked," the larger bot said solemnly.

"Oh," Knock Out uttered, before continuing, "how rude of me."

"Well, are you coming or not?"

The medic hesitated. He may have sympathized with the war's cause, but he had no intention of joining their ranks. He was an agent of his own volition; not a possible commodity to be retained in their conflict. He needed to find a way out of this and fast.

"Please, Breakdown, was it? I'm really only a bodywork specialist at best; nothing that important. Couldn't you just, say, get me out of here and point me in the direction of the nearest transport road?"

"Sure, if you don't mind running through twenty-five clicks of strike-zone to reach it," Breakdown said wryly.

Well, there went that idea along with any hope of peaceful escape. Another shower of blaster fire sounded outside and Knock Out could feel his frame shaking again.

"I shouldn't have come here. I could have left sooner . . . ow!" Knock Out hollered as Breakdown gave an audial shattering whistle.

"Shoulda, coulda, woulda but you didn't, doc. So, unless you wanna become scrap metal, I suggest you move your aft and follow me," he interrupted.

Knock Out's red optics flashed in a moment of insult, but the whine of incoming rocket fire convinced him to drop the offense and chase after the blue mech retreating through the entranceway. They jogged down the darkened corridors, cautiously rounding corners and avoiding the electrical shorts sputtering from control panels and lighting fixtures. There seemed to be no one else around which began to draw out the medic's anxiety in the form of nervous mumbling. Apparently sensing the other's growing distress, Breakdown spoke up.

"Everyone's out front keeping the pressure off the dropships. I'll take you to the south exit. It should be less heavy out that way . . ."

Knock Out nodded absent-mindedly. He was more in tune with the muffled sounds of battle outside and the occasional pops and pings of the structure's integrity under siege, though Breakdown's even timbre did bring a sense of normalcy with it. At any rate, Knock Out didn't care where they went just as long as it was far away from here. However, once his hefty companion mentioned a particular name the distracted medic was all audiles.

"Pardon me, did you just say Megatron?! As in, _the leader_ of the Decepticons?! What about him now?!"

"I just said Lord Megatron really wants to hang on to this sector. Looks like the Autobots want it just as badly," Breakdown grumbled as he lifted another fallen support beam from their path before smiling at his new strength. The doctor had really done a wonderful job on these upgrades.

"So, in other words, this whole place is doomed to scrap," Knock Out stated bluntly as the building shook from another explosion.

"Uh . . ."

"Well, what are we idling here for?! Let's make like traffic and jam!" the medic shouted as he charged past the azure mech towards their intended exit. Breakdown shuttered his yellow optics as he stood and watched Knock Out bound away. He was somewhat surprised to see how lithe the doctor was. It wasn't every solar cycle you saw someone execute a perfect pike jump through two and a half meters of clearance. Ultimately, he gave a quick shrug, dropped the beam, and trailed after the smaller mech with the shiny, red paint job.

It did take some finagling on both their parts to get around the debris and fires surrounding the outer walls of the complex, but the real obstacle came when they reached the compound's south gate. Right behind the postings, stood a giant cannon, battering the wall with shot and trying to make a way in.

"You didn't say anything about _that_ blocking the way! How are we supposed to get through fifty tons of firepower?!" Knock Out cried in a mixture of fear and frustration. Breakdown looked on as the large doors barricading the base shuddered with every blast from the mortar fire.

"They said the Autobot troops hadn't broken through yet. They were holding them off!" Breakdown stated in his own blend of emotion; mainly anger.

" _They_ said?! Sorry, but who are you talking about?" Knock Out asked, but Breakdown wasn't listening. Instead, he placed a servo to his helm and pinged his troop leader.

All he received was static.

If the enemy was out this far it could only mean one of two things about the squadron he was assigned to. Either they abandoned him or they were dead. Neither scenario sat well with the newly transferred warrior. His temper flared. The Autobots hadn't spotted the two of them yet and as far as Breakdown was concerned, that was their mistake.

"Did you hear me . . . Yah?!" Knock Out yelped as he quickly dodged out of his charging companion's way. Breakdown's servos instantly transformed into hammers; weapons drawn. He was ready to do battle the only way he knew how; head-on.

And he would have perished if it hadn't been for seven words hinged to change that.

"What are you doing?! Get back here!"

Breakdown stopped just short of punching through the gates and turned. The frightened medic was still holding his position—as far away from those gates as possible.

Knock Out was the reason Breakdown had come back out here, to begin with; his prime mission. The larger mech stalked back towards the physician, eyes narrowed and hammers still at the ready. The doctor couldn't help but fleetingly wonder if he unwittingly treated the mech who was going to offline him.

"I need to get you to that bunker, don't I?!" Breakdown said in such a cold manner, Knock Out could feel the energon pulsing through his lines drop a few degrees. The medic shuddered a bit but held his ground. Normally, he wouldn't have dared, but the overstimulating background of combat and his own tremendous stress levels triggered a visceral response. He, too, narrowed his optics and looked Breakdown squarely in his.

"Excuse me, but how exactly are you planning on helping me survive after getting yourself killed because that's what you were about to do; get yourself killed!" he exclaimed, gesturing to the whole of battle roaring around them. Breakdown paused at the medic's tone.

Sure he had been reprimanded by all sorts before; superiors, peers, even subordinates. They normally sounded angry or disappointed in an unsympathetic kind of way— just business as usual. He was used to it; unfazed by it. That's why he never listened to them any of them, why he had been reassigned three times, why he was so guarded with his current station.

This, however, was the first time his admonisher sounded like they actually cared . . . about him. Now, it could have been because the little red bot was a doctor; doctors tended to care. Breakdown also understood Knock Out was still a bit green; not used to raw combat yet—the poor mech was shivering like a regulator for Primus' sake—but something about that made Knock Out appear real; relatable; reliable.

So, even though the medic had no official authority over the soldier whatsoever, Breakdown exchanged his hammers for servos. Knock Out took this to be as close to an agreement as he was going to get.

"Right! Okay, I think we should find another way out of here! Let's say, that direction," the red mech suggested as he took off back towards the structure. Breakdown followed as Knock Out ran in a much less organized fashion than before. It would have been comical had the setting not been so dire. Foregoing the entrance back inside, the medic swung around the building and stopped short of what appeared to be a service door for the backup generators—a bizarre place to stop.

"How's this going to help us?!" Breakdown questioned, honestly confused by the brilliant smile lighting up the smaller mech's features.

"Open the door and I'll show you."

"Fine. Stand back!" Breakdown yelled as he moved forward and grasped the locked sliding panels of the door. With one quick pull, he separated the two sections by a few meters. Another tug and the door opened completely.

"Now what?"

"Have you ever seen what happens to an energon generator after you've reversed its current?" Knock Out shouted as he grabbed the polarity switch. Breakdown took one look at the complicated, overloaded power system before turning back to the now beaming medic.

"Have you?!"

"Not personally, but I hear it creates one swell of an explosion if ever there was one!" Knock Out exclaimed as he yanked out the pull switch, rotated it, and pushed it back in. Immediately, the generators began to hum; the sound slowly eating up the blaring chaos of war surrounding the two bots. Breakdown was genuinely frightened by the noise and nearly jumped when the medic shouted:

"Drive!"

Like a shot, Knock Out took off, transforming into his ground-based Cybertronian alternative mode and going full speed in the opposite direction. Breakdown wasted no time following suit in his own ground-based alternative mode as thick, blue and white smoke began pouring from the service door. The two vehicles rounded a security outpost just as the energy levels reached a critical point.

The initial bursts were blinding, causing them to transform back into their root forms and shield their optics. Several more upsurges of electricity buzzed throughout the air, resulting in the combat fire outside the compound's walls to calm dramatically. The last explosion engulfed the structure in a furnace of flames, bringing on the silence of the Autobot cannon at the south gate. Breakdown made a move to stand fully until Knock Out spoke up.

"Wait for it," the medic said as he expectantly looked towards the night sky. To the larger mech's surprise, the commotion of battle began moving away from the now smoldering complex.

"Hear that? It's the sound of success!" Knock Out said with a grin as he rose to his pedes. Breakdown did the same, but still wore a look of bewilderment as he glanced down at the red bot. The medic gladly elaborated.

"A blazing inferno equals nothing to fight over and nothing to fight over translates into move it along."

"Yeah, but the building and supplies, not to mention the energon . . ." Breakdown stated as he turned to watch the structure burn. Knock Out shrugged.

"It's not like the place was worth saving. It was a scrap pile, to begin with. Now, let's get out of here before all this ash ruins my finish."

Breakdown let out a pressurized vent. This guy was a trip.

"Alright. Our best bet is still due south. The bunker is only five clicks from there."

Knock Out frowned. It seemed his former patient turned unwelcomed chaperon was still fixated on sealing him away in some Decepticon basement.

"Why can't you just help me get out of here and let me be on my way, again?"

"Because it's safer in the bunker than out here and General Onslaught insisted I bring you there."

Knock Out's frown deepened. An officially endorsed request for his detainment? Maybe it was time to split. After all, the fighting had moved off and he could probably find that transport road on his own now.

"I see," he stated with a renewed smile, trying to sound nonchalant. Regrettably, he also took an unconscious step back. Breakdown's optics narrowed at the gesture as he realized the medic was poised to run.

"Oh, no you don't, doc . . . Doc!" he shouted as he dashed after Knock Out who dropped back into vehicular mode. Breakdown quickly copied the move and gave chase. The smaller red Cybertronian car had speed on his side, but the sheer power behind the blue Cybertronian truck shortened the gap between them quickly. Knock Out tried desperately to outperform his slower, less maneuverable pursuer but Breakdown's large tires gave the warrior an advantage over the unstable terrain.

"Watch the paint!" Knock Out squawked as the other came dangerously close to ramming his rear bumper.

"Well, stop driving away already!" Breakdown shouted in equal frustration.

"No! I'm not going with you!" Knock Out shouted as he drifted left, leaving Breakdown to crash into a sizable piece of rubble.

The red vehicle smiled inwardly as he finally outpaced his chaser, but the victory was short-lived. Terror gripped him as he witnessed the larger auto blast straight through the wreckage with the truck's roof-mounted cannon—a cannon that the medic had installed with long-range capabilities. It seemed to dawn on him then. There was no way he could outdo a militarily armed bot like Breakdown, at least, not like this. Knock Out applied his brakes, transformed, and skid fifty meters across the ashen ground on two pedes and a servo. Breakdown barely had time to stop, forcing him to transform and fall on his backside in order to avoid colliding with the smaller mech who was now busy brushing himself off.

"Why'd you stop?!" Breakdown demanded angrily as he made to stand back up.

"Didn't you ask me to?" Knock Out said as he watched the other rise. Breakdown glared at him and the doctor lifted his servos in surrender.

"My apologies, I've just never been in this kind of situation before. Nice shot with the cannon, by the way. Glad to see it's working properly, but I believe your suspension may be a tad on the stiff side. Here's what I'll do, look me up in Uraya and I'll give you a follow-up appointment on the house. How does that sound?"

Breakdown let out an irritated vent and Knock Out sighed before continuing.

"Alright, but I don't even know who this Onslaught character is. Why would he order you to take me anywhere?"

Despite the medic's attempts at appearing unruffled, Breakdown could still hear the anxious undertone in the other's vocalizer. He felt bad for Knock Out. Fear was no stranger to Breakdown and he understood what it meant to feel small and powerless. After all, it's the reason he joined the Decepticons . . . maybe a reason for the medic to join too. So, the warrior tried to ease the current tension by taking a less imposing stance.

"I know this isn't easy, doc . . ." Breakdown started until he noticed the other's narrowing gaze, "I mean, Knock Out, but I think they just want to talk with you. Onslaught seemed impressed by your work."

The medic crossed his arms and looked to the ground for a moment. He stamped his right ped a few times before looking up at Breakdown again.

"And what if I refuse to go with you?" he asked quietly.

"I could make you," Breakdown answered frankly, causing Knock Out to shift uncomfortably, "but I won't."

"Really?!" the medic said with so much relief and enthusiasm, the other couldn't help but smile.

"Sure, but I'll be punished and they'll probably send someone else to come out here and get you," Breakdown responded casually. Knock Out brought his arms down and behind his back, clasping his servos together. He began pacing in a small circle with agitation written all over his faceplates.

"Well, it looks like I don't have much of a choice, now does it?"

Breakdown shrugged. Having only met Knock Out twice, each time being under threatening circumstances, Breakdown found the other to be fairly likable.

"You also said they were impressed by my work. A good thing, right?" Knock Out questioned again. Breakdown gave a short nod. The medic stopped pacing and let out a mix between a sigh and a grumble.

"Fine, let's get this over with then."


	2. Chapter 2

**Enter the Complimentary Follow-up**

Chapter Two

Breakdown thought for sure the highly spirited medic would have put up more resistance once they got underway, but he was thoroughly surprised by the amount of cooperation he received. True to his word, Knock Out hadn't tried to slip off during their journey—not even once. However, as soon as the doors to the bunker came into view, all that wonderful compliance dissipated. Breakdown watched as the young physician slowed down and transformed into bipedal mode; the look of uncertainty plain as a solar flare on his white faceplates. The larger mech swiftly lifted into his own root form and took a few measured steps towards the doctor.

"Well, here we are."

"I can see that," Knock Out snapped anxiously before quickly retorting, "Definitely not the most impressive piece of architecture, is it?"

Breakdown didn't quite know what to respond with on that. How could someone go from apprehension to sassiness so quickly? He didn't get long to ponder that as the red mech spoke up again.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You're the reason I'm being brought here for my safety?"

"Kind of, yeah," Breakdown answered carefully. He suspected there was going to be a follow-up question to that one. He was right.

"So, isn't there a way for you to call this off? I mean, I'm safe now and I'm pretty sure I can make my way back to Uraya . . ."

"I'm sorry, Knock Out, but they ordered I bring you here. I don't get to make final decisions," Breakdown answered truthfully.

"I see."

"You're not thinking about running away again, are you?" the warrior asked. Knock Out gave a curt laugh.

"Aren't I?"

There was a short moment of silence before Breakdown cleared his vocalizer.

"So, are you ready to meet Onslaught?"

"If I say no, can I leave?" Knock Out asked in a sarcastic drawl. He wanted to stall this process as long as possible. If he had just a little more time to think, maybe he could find a way out of this. He really didn't want to go into that bunker.

"Sure, if you'd like to run from an angry squadron. I'm pretty sure surveillance has picked us up by now," Breakdown stated in a matter of fact tone. Knock Out let out a laugh that could have passed for a cry. Of course, there were cameras; there were always cameras . . .

It was then something occurred to the doctor. Was it a good thing Breakdown was being this forthcoming? After all, Knock Out was a noncombatant. The war never did look favorably upon the uninvolved; clinically trained or otherwise. What would the Decepticons want with a _non-aligned_ medic? Was he really safe here, was he about to walk into some kind of bizarre trap, or was this a play for his allegiance?

He took in a large vent, trying to calm his racing processor. He couldn't afford to panic; not now, it would only make things worse. He needed to keep his faculties about him if he wanted to get out of this on top and, more importantly, alive. Composing his thoughts, he nodded.

"Fine, let's proceed, shall we?"

He took a few poised steps forward before quickly noticing Breakdown wasn't following. He immediately thought why not? Up until this point, the big bruiser had practically been an unshakable shadow. Knock Out turned back with a look of impatience.

"Well?"

"My orders were to bring you to the bunker, not to accompany you inside. I still need to report back to my unit and find out what happened to the others," Breakdown said with slight hesitation. Knock Out's optics widened dramatically. So much for not panicking.

"Are you serious?!"

Breakdown looked at him incredulously, prompting the smaller bot to reevaluate his demeanor. He hadn't meant to react so strongly, but the thought of continuing this venture alone terrified him. He couldn't quite put a digit on it, especially since Breakdown had placed him in this predicament, to begin with, but he felt much safer having the other around than not. Nevertheless, he needed to remain sensible about this.

"I mean, don't you know how rude it is to abandon a guest? The least you could do is see me inside," Knock Out stated evenly, trying to enlist the other's accompaniment with a bit of guilt. He looked for any sign that he had changed Breakdown's mind. All he got was a quirked optic ridge. He needed to come up with something more reasonable; more appealing.

"Well, wouldn't this Onslaught know something about your unit? You should ask him, right?"

That did the trick, but for entirely different reasons than Knock Out believed. Breakdown had been giving the whole situation a bit more thought. All he'd done was briefly mention Knock Out's presence in the area and what the doctor had done for him. Next thing he knew, General Onslaught was requesting Knock Out be brought back immediately. As far as he understood it, medics weren't all that imperative to the Decepticons. It wasn't that they were against medicine, but Megatron frowned severely upon weakness. The need for medical assistance typically pulled one away from what the leader considered to be a glorious death on the battlefield and was thus seen as pitiful in the former gladiator's optics.

So, even though he may not have been the brightest mech—something others constantly reminded him of—Breakdown could see something was off here. Honestly, he didn't know if Knock Out would be safe or not and it bothered him enough to make a decision.

"Well?" Knock Out needled again.

"Mm. Alright," Breakdown conceded, not missing the other's sigh of relief.

"You're a good mech, Breakdown. Don't let them tell you any different."

The larger mech couldn't help but smile at the remark. He knew he made the right choice.

The two began walking towards the entrance, fully aware the doors to the bunker were slowly opening. As soldiers began pouring out, Breakdown noticed the medic's behavior shifted. Gone were all traces of apprehension. A steady gait, confident posture and easy-going smile all pointed to a deliberate attempt on Knock Out's part to appear undaunted.

A blue and gray mech broke away from the rest of the troop and approached the pair, causing them to stop.

"Breakdown. So, this is the reason you're still online?" the mech asked, glancing down at Knock Out in disapproval. The doctor calmly regarded the other back. In all his experience, the medic found first impressions to be vitally important. Obviously, this mech didn't give a scrap about things like that.

"Nice to meet you, too. I'm Knock Out, by the way. I hear a General Onslaught would like to speak with me," Knock Out stated professionally; amicably. The blue and gray mech sneered and looked back up towards Breakdown for more clarification.

"It's true. This is him, Air Leader Thundercracker," Breakdown said with a nod.

"Well, seems you ground-pounders finally did something right for a change," the officer quipped, fanning out his wings to better demonstrate his alternative jet form. The few snickers from the aerial soldiers behind him served to bring a smug smirk to the air leader's face. Knock Out found himself even more irritated by this character. What gave him the right to be so rude?

"Excuse me, _sir_ , but I'd prefer to chat inside where it's safe from any stray blaster fire if you don't mind?" Knock Out deadpanned. The officer's optics tapered briefly before returning to normal.

"I'll take him from here," Thundercracker said with the most unsettling smile Knock Out had ever seen. The medic was also becoming more aware of the other soldiers walling him in. This was shaping up to be a nightmare.

Automatically, Knock Out glanced at Breakdown; optics silently searching for support. All he got was an expressionless, orange face gazing back at him. For a moment, the medic thought he was on his own, but just as he looked away in defeat Breakdown spoke up.

"Air Leader, I was thinking about bringing Knock Out to Onslaught myself," he said in a voice that didn't leave much room for argument. The officer's optics narrowed in anger as the medic's beamed with triumph.

"What?! Who are you to start thinking? Weren't you assigned to the Gamma Quadrant? You should be back at your post with the others by now," Thundercracker snapped vehemently. Breakdown shrank back but Knock Out leaned forward. He was put off by this mech's unpleasantness, especially since Breakdown was doing him a favor.

"That's why he needs to see General Onslaught. He can't get in touch with the others, so, if you don't mind, _Thunder_ , why don't we carry on already," the medic said coolly, not missing the astonished whispers of the troops around them. Breakdown's optics widened in shock. Thundercracker let out a sharp vent of indignation before quickly glaring Knock Out down.

"Hopefully, you're worth the trouble, _doctor_ , because if not, I'll be taking care of you personally," he threatened before turning around and gesturing for them to follow. Breakdown hadn't expected Knock Out to be so audacious, especially with a commanding officer. But, he had to admit, the look on the air leader's face was hilarious. With a small grin, Breakdown trailed behind Knock Out who was walking confidently after an irritated Thundercracker through the now parted crowd of Decepticon fighters. However, despite his outward boldness, Knock Out's processor was reeling.

From his perspective, he felt this could go one of two ways. Either he was on the cusp of entering a new opportunity or on the verge of making a fatal mistake; a real fifty/fifty here. He always found it amazing how alike excitement and terror felt once faced with risk and reward situations. It was a feeling he was familiar with but he also knew it made gauging one's responses more difficult. He didn't have the advantage of knowing why they wanted to speak with him. All he had in his favor was what he always had; his delightful self-assurance. It was his only defense now . . . or so he thought.

As they crossed the threshold into the bunker, Knock Out took in the dimly-lit, claustrophobically-narrow hallway with ceilings so low Breakdown had to duck down in order to navigate the space. The stale atmosphere and loud noises radiating from the tomb-like enclosure caused the red mech's plating to shudder in revulsion. It triggered another default defense setting; sarcasm.

"I'm absolutely loving this rustic interior and intimate décor. Can't wait to see what the rest of the place looks like."

Thundercracker paused his stride but didn't bother to turn around. Breakdown allowed a look of surprise to cross his faceplates. Knock Out felt a certain thrill seize him as he took in their reactions. There was something intoxicatingly empowering about shocking others, especially when in such a powerless position. Crazy as it might seem, it made the medic feel in control. However, he didn't expect what happened next. Thundercracker laughed. A brief, twisted laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"So, you have a sense of humor. Good. You'll need it. We'll all need it."

The Air Leader continued his walk, leaving Knock Out to ponder the statements. They were a further glimpse of what they wanted from him; his enlistment. The medic hesitated long enough to collect his courage before persisting forward; Thundercracker none the wiser. However, the pause didn't escape Breakdown's notice.

He knew the cybertronian before him didn't want to be here. He knew the guy had been terrified just moments before. He knew the mech had a right to be in complete and utter turmoil. But, despite all that, Knock Out kept a buoyant, assertive air about him. There was also no doubt the medic was trying to figure a way out of this mess or, at least, that's the impression Breakdown got anyhow. He could see the doctor's helm tilt this way and that as if mapping out their route and trying to keep track of how many turns they were making. So, polite, composed, and attentive; quite the combination of traits to possess. Breakdown briefly wondered what else the medic ahead of him was capable of.

As the three walked on, Knock Out noticed the corridors were gradually becoming larger—Breakdown could now stand to full height—and the lighting had improved. It helped him feel less trapped, but it reinforced the notion he was heading towards the point of no return. Grant it, from what he understood, the Decepticons were against the very caste system which tended to hold him down. Like himself, they believed in change and a better distribution of power. If anything, this could be a chance for him to move up in the world, but then there was that small detail; the war.

He'd seen enough to know he didn't want to have anything to do with it but wasn't he already involved? It seemed the whole planet was up in arms, choosing sides and destroying each other. What small pockets of neutral territory did remain only served as new battlegrounds for the Autobots and Decepticons. So, why not join the fight? Though a part of him longed for the more peaceful, prosperous side of their current society, he couldn't deny that he hated the present order of things; mainly because he couldn't enjoy that peaceful, prosperous side legally. But, wasn't he happy now. After all, he'd found his own way of beating the system and it was working rather fantastically. Why mess with a good thing going?

He needed to come up with an answer to that question sooner rather than later because they were now entering an assemblage of some kind. Troops similar to those at the entrance lined the walls, listening to an enormous mech at the head of the room who Knock Out could only describe as nightmare-inducing.

The Decepticon looked to be some sort of missile carrier as evidenced by the dual-cannons and huge tires making up portions of his alternative form, not to mention the heavily armored plating. What really set Knock Out on edge though was the mech's unreadable face. A visor covered the optics while a mouth guard hid any other expression. It made apprising the mech's mood impossible and thus dangerous to Knock Out. Thundercraker was the first to speak.

"Here's the doctor, Onslaught."

The intimidating character gestured for them to come in. Thundercracker immediately stepped forward, but Knock Out wasn't moving. All the medic could think was if Breakdown had to stoop down to get in here, this mech would have needed to crawl. He wouldn't admit it, but he was intimidated. A brief moment passed before Breakdown placed a servo on the medic's shoulder and gently, but firmly showed the doctor onward.

Knock Out resisted the urge to plant his pedes, choosing instead, to shrug off the warrior's assistance and walk in on his own. He looked collected, but his spark was surging out of control, alarms pinging around in his hub. He needed to calm down and listen. He couldn't afford a lapse of function here; not now. Finally, Onslaught spoke.

"You must be Knock Out. Breakdown there has told me a bit about you."

"All good, I hope," Knock Out drawled, glancing back at Breakdown momentarily.

"I assure you, it was," the mech said, dismissing the other soldiers from the room before focusing on them again.

"I commend you for bringing him here in one piece, Breakdown, but why are you still here?" Onslaught asked as he advanced forward to meet them halfway. Thundercracker jumped in, wings hiking up in agitation.

"He says he can't reach the others and you know what that means. The Autobots have probably already secured that quadrant so we'll have to start all over. Lord Megatron won't be pleased and on top of what you're proposing . . ."

Onslaught's jaw stiffened and Knock Out could have sworn he saw a crimson flash behind the mech's visor. The medic really hoped this didn't have anything to do with him, but the side glare he was receiving from Thundercracker told him otherwise.

"As I said before, you better be worth the trouble, _doctor_."

"I'll be the judge of that, _Air Leader_ ," Onslaught said, emphasizing the other's title disparagingly. Thundercracker's optics seemed to burn with murderous intent before the officer smiled genteelly.

"As you wish, _General_ , but don't come begging to me when our leader demands answers."

"Dismissed," Onslaught said simply. Thundercracker gave Knock Out and Breakdown one last withering glance before withdrawing through the way they'd come. The pair stood quietly as the general strode closer; ground thundering under each step.

"Breakdown," Onslaught finally said, generating a nod from the warrior "I want you to check-in with Brawl and see if he can't reassign you to another unit while . . ."

"If it's all the same to you, sir," Knock Out spoke up, hating the pop in his vocalizer as he did so, "I'd prefer it if Breakdown stayed."

Knock Out could hear the mech behind him yield a sharp intake; a sign the medic may have crossed some kind of obscure threshold of insubordination. Well, he figured if he was waist-deep in scrap anyhow, what harm could come of requesting the only bot to show him any consideration stay. Nonetheless, Knock Out could feel his stabilizer joints weaken as Onslaught tilted down and fixed him with a scrutinizing gaze.

It wasn't often a Decepticon general was interrupted without dire consequences—especially by some non-aligned civilian— but Onslaught also knew this mech could be the missing piece of a vital turning-point; the difference between victory or defeat.

"Granted. But tell me, are you always this presumptuous?" Onslaught asked in a gruff manner.

"My apologies. I meant no disrespect," Knock Out said humbly, happy to know he'd gotten away with that one.

"Good. Now, let's get straight down to why I requested you here. Our forces are in need of more recruits. Normally, we call on candidates with the right abilities and a desire to join the cause. You have the right abilities, doctor."

"But no desire to join," Knock Out finished carefully. Onslaught nodded.

"I thought as much. Mm, I can't force you to, but I am going to insist you reconsider."

"While I'm flattered by the invitation, I'd rather remain with my current medical outfit, General Onslaught. I do, however, sympathize with the Decepticon cause and will continue offering my services to any one of you I encounter."

"An offer you most graciously extend to our enemies as well, no doubt."

Knock Out could hear his cooling fans kick on. That certainly sounded threatening. Was Onslaught trying to intimidate him? Should he play along? Pretend to join the Decepticons? Then what? Try to escape when the opportunity presented itself? No. He worked too hard for this class of medic and he was going to use it.

"I'm a doctor, General. My job is to keep Cybertronians online, no matter what affiliation they fall under," he said deliberately, gauging the other two's reactions. Breakdown kept a straight face, but Onslaught tilted his helm a bit.

"So it is. But, if I understand correctly, you don't rightfully deserve the title doctor, now do you?"

"Come again?" Knock Out said with more indignation than he felt. The accusation was too close to the truth to be a lucky guess, but he knew he couldn't panic.

"You used to work for a science center in Vos. It was mostly research and development, but you also did some work in energon excavation and chemistry," Onslaught said pointedly. The medic's arms quivered, but his voice held steady.

"Well, I certainly know my way around a laboratory, but I'd hardly consider that evidence against my designation. After all, that's where I first showed an interest in medicine."

"Now we both know that isn't true, _doctor_ , because your alt mode suggests you enjoy the lifestyle a competitive racer," Onslaught continued. Knock Out's confidence returned. So, that was all.

"Well, I may dabble in a few friendly competitions here and there, but what young bot doesn't have a hobby, am I right?"

"A hobby that nets you quite a substantial income. Just enough to keep up appearances at the academy or get into it?" Onslaught questioned. Knock Out shuttered his optics. How in the Pit had they gotten that information? Still, it didn't prove anything so the medic huffed.

"I don't see what all this has to do with my being a doctor . . ."

"You used to help in a little-known bodywork clinic before that."

"So?!" Knock Out snapped defensively without realizing it. Where did they find this information?! He had been very careful in covering his tracks; concealing his past from others and forging a perfectly untraceable identity.

"That's where I believe your curiosity in medicine began," Onslaught said in mock innocence.

"Maybe . . ." Knock Out began as he took an unconscious step backward, nearly bumping into Breakdown. His survival systems were screaming for him to follow his preserving nature to flee while every last bit of his concentrated willpower was trying to keep his plating from trembling.

"It's also where your former practices of illegal parts salvaging, frame modifying, and weapons dealing came in handy. I assume the clinic work was, in part, to pay for the entrance fees on those races you won which helped move you to Vos and into the next level of the sciences."

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Knock Out tried to sound angry, but came across as flustered. His processor was racing to keep up with his skipping spark. He looked back at Breakdown, hoping to see some form of support, but all he saw was the warrior's own shocked expression. He was on his own now with only a frail brand of self-assurance to guide him.

"And it was only just a short time ago you enrolled in that little medical outfit of yours masquerading as a surgeon, correct?" Onslaught questioned in a slightly amused tone. Knock Out remained silent, not trusting his vocal composure anymore, but he was still able to maintain stern optic contact with his interrogator.

Onslaught stepped closer.

"So you're a scientist, a racer, a wheeler 'n dealer and now a doctor. I ran your class set and it's taken you from the position of a domestic servant in one quadrant to a member of the nobility in another thanks to your blurred heritage."

Knock Out finally looked away in silent shock and shame. He could feel their optics burrowing into him and it was maddening, but he couldn't bring himself to look up again.

Breakdown gave a small, angry vent as he witnessed the fight drain out of the smaller mech. This was why he joined the Decepticons in the first place. He had been tired of seeing spirited cybertronians emptied of their ambitions because of something as antiquated as a class system. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right and, as Megatron had voiced, it wasn't staying. Still, Breakdown didn't think it was appropriate to showcase the medic's past like that and he gave the general a scornful look. Onslaught merely crossed his massive arms and addressed Knock Out.

"So, care to explain your drastic caste jumping to the Senate and the side that wants to bargain with them or to the faction that _sympathizes_ with your misconduct?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Enter the Complimentary Follow-up**

Chapter Three

There were three things Knock Out couldn't stand; four he absolutely detested: tedious tasks, dingy spaces, infringed liberties and any blemishes on his meticulously kept finish . . . Currently, he was four for four and it was driving him crazy!

"Gah!" he cried in frustration, as a datapad slipped from his strained servos and clattered to the floor, "Why didn't I leave when I had the chance?! Now, I'm stuck here for who knows how long!" he raged, pacing the confined space with all the fury of a caged Energon Eater.

Onslaught had assigned him to prep this area of the bunker for medical use; a mind-numbing chore not met with much enthusiasm. This makeshift clinic would have the barest of supplies, the tightest of spaces and the dreariest of appearances at best. The medic didn't appreciate the grimy accommodations or the fact he'd been ushered down to the innermost part of the underground shelter. A smart move on the General's part but an infuriating hindrance to the doctor's sense of autonomy—he had already tried sneaking out twice to no avail. To top it off, he wouldn't be able to find the time to clean himself up, at least, not with the timetable he'd been given.

With another aggravated growl, Knock Out bent down and picked up the datapad. He placed a servo over the side of his helm as he rose back up. What a time for processor strain. He placed the small device on one of the undersized worktables and, in the act of rolling his optics, caught sight of a figure looming in the entranceway. He jerked, taking a few steps back until he realized who it was. Then, he glowered.

"Do you need something?"

Breakdown entered the small space and Knock Out couldn't help but notice the warrior looked . . . uncomfortable. Large servos clasped tightly out in front, optic ridges slightly raised, a small, worried frown on the faceplates; it made the larger mech look downright nervous. The doctor's expression softened. He crossed his arms, assumed a relaxed posture and waited. This was different.

"I came to see if you needed any help," Breakdown stated. Knock Out regarded the mech for a klik. Was this a genuine offer of assistance or just another means of keeping an optic on him?

While trying to reconcile the fact Breakdown was responsible for both his rescue and entrapment, Knock Out's practical side won in end—that heavier equipment sure wasn't going to move its self.

"Well, you can help by moving some of those things over to the washbasin. Most of it looks like it hasn't been cleaned in eons," Knock Out sneered as he gestured one servo towards shelves loaded with stained apparatuses. Breakdown nodded and eagerly began transferring tools down from the shelf to the solvent basin near the far wall. The medic let out a short, noncommittal vent before picking up where he left off—inventorying the insufficient supplies.

They worked in silence for a while, neither addressing the palpable tension building in the room. It wasn't until Knock Out's discomfort and boredom got the better of him that he finally broke the quiet.

"So, did you really come down here to offer assistance or did the General just send you to check up on me?" he asked snidely, keeping his eyes trained on the datapad. Breakdown lowered another piece of equipment down before slowly turning to face the medic.

"Look, Knock Out . . . I didn't know about all of what Onslaught said. I wouldn't have mentioned you to them if I did."

"Yeah, for all the good that does me now," the doctor said severely, busing his servos with logging away nonexistent items. He didn't want to betray too much emotion, but anger was burning like molten alloy in his tanks.

"I . . ." Breakdown faltered before continuing apologetically, "I didn't mean for this to happen."

Knock Out's optics constricted with rage. He finally looked up to the warrior.

"But it did! I told you I didn't want to come here. I told you!"

"I really didn't have a choice."

"Yes, I remember," Knock Out said coldly as he returned his smoldering optics back to the device's screen. In all honesty, he knew his anger was misplaced on Breakdown. The big bruiser was just the errand bot sent to fetch him for the inevitable—the inescapable choice he'd of had to make sooner or later. It's just, he would have rather it been later and he didn't know what else to do with that.

The emotive atmosphere became choking and the larger mech wrung his servos together again, before quickly heading for the door. The action caused Knock Out's spark rate to spike suddenly.

"Wait!" the doctor called out, pulling the datapad down and spinning to face Breakdown. The look of remorse on the larger mech's face was undeniable and yet confusing at the same time.

"I wouldn't have told them if I knew. I mean it," Breakdown said quietly; sincerely.

It was at that moment, Knock Out made a decision; one he hadn't made in a long time; one he was unconscious of but resolved in. He chose to trust Breakdown rather than suspect him.

"You know what? I actually think you do," Knock Out said with a brilliant smirk. Breakdown was initially surprised by the response, but soon his features mirrored the confident expression of the doctor's. The medic continued.

"Besides, if it hadn't been for you I'd probably be one with the AllSpark by now. Never thanked you properly for that either, so, thank you."

"Well, in the end, you're the one who blasted us out of there."

"True, but I can't be mad at you for trying, now can I?" Knock Out added.

"Mm. But you're still mad though, aren't you?" Breakdown asked cautiously.

"Mad? No. I'm blowing a gasket! First, I'm coerced into taking this position, then they have the bearings to pretend like I had a choice in the matter! Now, I'm assigned to some shabby basement closet . . . !" Knock Out ranted until he took notice of Breakdown's disapproving look, "Uh, no offense?"

The warrior frowned and shook his helm.

"None taken. I joined the Decipticons willing enough, but I didn't choose to be stationed here," Breakdown stated with just enough discontent to make Knock Out comfortable enough to chuckle.

"So, I'm not the only one disappointed with the managerial staff around here," he said with a grin. Breakdown's optics widened.

"You really shouldn't say stuff like that," he said quickly, turning his helm towards the entrance as if expecting someone to be standing there. Knock Out waved a somewhat dismissive servo.

"I'll take your word on that. Nonetheless, how do they expect me to work in these conditions, anyway? This place is better suited for storage than an infirmary. And don't even get me started on the equipment down here. Inactive scanners, outdated decontamination products, inoperative tools, oh, and the lack of proper detailing implements," Knock Out huffed as he lightly pushed the datapad on the table aside, "It's a good thing I carry my own."

The medic reached into his subspace. Breakdown tilted his helm, half expecting the doctor to pull out medical supplies or surgical instruments. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of . . . a small rotary buffer? Knock Out noticed his companion's confusion, but attributed it to something else entirely.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but it gets the job done. Besides, you wouldn't believe how difficult it is to pack a full-sized one along with all this other junk I have to carry," the medic said as he produced a full medical kit in his other servo. Breakdown could only shrug. Like he concluded earlier; this guy was a trip, but, somehow, that was alright. It made being assigned to this unpleasant platoon feel a little less like a waste to him.

"Well, do you want me to finish up moving these things down for you?" the warrior asked, jabbing a stubby digit back at the shelf. Knock Out nodded as he placed the medical kit down next to the datapad.

"Yes, if you'd be so kind."

Breakdown smiled as he proceeded to complete the task. He'd almost forgotten how nice it was to have an ordinary conversation with someone.

"So, when are you planning on using that thing," Breakdown asked casually, not expecting much in the way of an answer. He was surprised by the smaller mech's enthusiastic reply.

"Well, if you don't mind, I plan on using it right now," Knock Out exclaimed as he turned on the buffer, "I can't stand looking like this."

Before Breakdown had time to consider the response, the other mech was working on what appeared to be a perfectly polished paint job to the warrior. Evidently, flourish could be added to the list of attributes the little medic possessed.

"Right," Breakdown finally said as he continued emptying the shelves. However, after a few moments, it became clear Knock Out was having trouble reaching certain parts of his finish; the excessive mumbling and complaining gave it away.

"Uh, need any help," Breakdown offered. The red mech fixed him with a wary glance.

"No offense, but you don't strike me as the detailing sort," he stated as he continued to struggle with the polisher and contortionism.

"Suit yourself," the warrior said with an amused smile. If only the medic knew, but he didn't. And besides, it was kind of funny to hear how many different ways Knock Out could say 'almost got it' and 'scrap this' in the same vent. Breakdown was enjoying the company. However, as he placed the last piece of equipment by the basin he realized this may be the last time he saw the mech.

"Well, anything else?"

Knock Out paused for a moment. Despite his reluctance to admit it, he didn't want Breakdown to leave either.

"Um . . ." the medic was actually racking his processor, trying to find any reason for the other to stay longer. He lowered the buffer and looked at the tarnished equipment with a flicker of inspiration.

"I could use some assistance washing these things off, if you don't mind, of course," the red mech stated as he placed the polisher down and came to stand by the large sink. It was in this slightly frantic request Breakdown discovered Knock Out must be enjoying the company too. He gave a short nod. The medic smiled and nodded back before facing the basin with a frown.

"Figures. They don't even have enough brushes over here for me to clean these things properly," the doctor complained as he reached a servo over and tried turning the valve that should have allowed the solvent to pour from the faucet. Nothing happened. The tap was rusted solid. He placed both servos on the broach wheel and tried again.

"Primus! Even the sink in this place is a piece of scrap," he grumbled in frustration, taking a step back to scowl at the handle.

"Let me try," Breakdown stated as he twisted the valve. Blue solvent shot out of the spigot at the same time the knob broke free from the wall. Both bots stared at it for a moment, Breakdown looking particularly mortified. Others saw him as nothing but a clumsy oaf due to incidents like these. It wasn't true, but sometimes he didn't know his own strength and now all he could think was that it was happening again.

Knock Out noticed the blue mech's embarrassment.

"Ah! Come on! You barely touched it. This place isn't winning any points in the engineering department," he huffed as he tapped the end of the spout with a digit. Breakdown smiled too. For the first time in a long time, he was set at ease.

"Yeah, they should really get a _handle_ on that," the larger mech quipped as he quickly screwed the tap back on. The medic had a small amused smile as the two went to sanitizing the utensils. He found himself fairly impressed by Breakdown's apt at clearing the rust and grime away, especially since they had such limited scrubbers at their disposal. He was just about to comment on it when a mech with charcoal-colored armor came running in.

"Doctor! Wounded out front! Onslaught wants you there immediately!" he exclaimed from the entranceway. The medic dropped everything.

"Here, take this! Grab that! Follow me!" Knock Out ordered as he seized his medical kit, shoved a few things into the two other mechs' servos and zoomed out of the room like a shot. The soldier gave Breakdown a questioning look. Breakdown simply ran after the doctor.

As they raced down corridors, the blue mech found himself smiling again. He had been right about Knock Out mapping the base earlier as it didn't take long for the medic to start leading them towards that exit. Unbeknownst to the red bot, it wasn't the bunker's main entrance.

"Hey, Knock Out!" Breakdown shouted as he and the other mech paused near the start of another hallway; the doctor traveling another few paces before stopping to look back, "Front's this way."

"Oh," Knock Out said with a nod before following closely behind them the rest of the way.

When they reached the end of the corridor to the enormous front entry with large hanger doors, Knock Out let out an uneasy vent. He still didn't know exactly what he was dealing with here. Were there other medically trained staff like him? How much did they expect him to do? Were they going to force him to work as a field medic out in open battle or keep him trapped in this bunker-like their own private pet practitioner? Was this a test to see how useful he really was? Or a chance for him to show his worth?

As they stepped across the entrance's threshold, his questions were answered at a vast rate.

Troops were hauling in the injured on hover-stretchers or carrying them in manually from the field. There had to be at least fifty mortally wounded cybertronians already present and more were still coming in. It was an overwhelming number for any fully staffed hospital let alone a single medic surrounded by recruits with no training higher than an orderly. Gunfire was blasting in the distance while fiery ash blew in all around them creating a sense of urgent doom. And there, standing in the background, was General Onslaught and Air Leader Thundercracker; watching.

For an instant, Knock Out panicked.

He'd never done anything this big before. Any prior emergency training was handled on an individual trauma basis. This was a full-blown disaster scenario and everything within him wanted to shrink back; go with his first impulse and run. However, upon spotting the smirk on Thundercracker's face, he just as quickly channeled that stress into fuel for his determination. If he wanted to get out of this on top he would need to prove himself. His mind fixated on the word triage and he was going to make slam sure everyone else's did too.

"Who here has medical experience?!" he tried shouting, but his voice was lost in the disorder. His optics darted to the two leaders. He couldn't afford this. His sights settled beside him.

"Breakdown, would you mind getting their attention in that ever so charming way of yours."

Without hesitation, the larger mech let loose an audial piercing whistle. The whole assemblage quieted.

"Listen up!" Breakdown shouted boldly until all optics turned towards him. He realized he wasn't sure what else to say except, "Um, doctor in the house!"

"Thank you," Knock Out said with a grin before fixing a stern look on the horde in front of him, "Those with medical experience of any kind come stand next to me."

No one moved, choosing instead to give each other curious looks. The doctor growled.

"Now, fellas! I don't have all solar cycle. I want those injured who can still walk to move to the west side of the building! You six, if they're unconscious, leaking profusely and still venting bring them to the east side. If they're offline and not venting at all, leave 'em and move on. Everything else goes to the north end. Snap to it! I want this place organized!" Knock Out ordered. He was relieved when they began scrambling to do as he said. It didn't hurt either that Breakdown was scowling down at the crowd too.

The medic then turned to address the five mechs who came to stand with him.

"This is going to be a stretch. Alright, I'm assuming you only have basic first aid training. You four, stay with me. You, however, go to the west side. Inventory and stabilize their conditions before reporting back to me," he said handing the grey mech a datapad and a diagnostic reader, "However if any of them worsen let me know immediately."

"Uh, yes, um, doctor," the mech replied running in the direction of the walking wounded.

"The rest of you, I only have one other analyzer with me. I'll diagnosis and prioritize. You simply treat who I tell you to and for what I tell you to, understand?" Knock Out demanded. As the four bots nodded submissively, the medic realized he was really in charge here. It was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time, but he had to keep it together. This was still a test and he had to keep his focus.

"Breakdown, I need you to grab a few soldiers, head back to the infirmary and bring every last bit of equipment back out here," he directed.

"You got it," the larger bot responded happily. For the first time since arriving to this unit, Breakdown felt like part of a team again. It didn't take the warrior long to return and once the medical equipment was in place, it didn't take the doctor long to begin giving out instructions on how he wanted injuries addressed.

Critical energon loss requiring immediate surgical intervention were labeled priority one for him to deal with alone. Any other energon loss cases were assigned to three of his impromptu assistants. Patients involving less severe ailments became a priority two status and fell to the other volunteer responder for treatment. All other functional bots available relayed messages and supplies between the three triage areas. Everything hinged on Knock Out's delivered instruction and it was all working beautifully . . . Until the medic realized halfway through his procedures, they didn't have any way of inducing stasis.

It hadn't been an issue so far thanks to most of his critical patients being too incapacitated to notice a little thing like surgery, but the next batch would be totally cognizant. Even with pain receptors turned off, hardened soldiers found it difficult to sit calmly under the pulse of a laser scalpel while wide awake. The last thing Knock Out needed was someone thrashing about in this environment. His anxiety started to climb; red optics instinctively shooting up, roaming the area in search of the only genuine support he felt he had.

"Breakdown," he exclaimed once he spotted the familiar blue.

"What do you need?" Breakdown asked as he came beside the surgeon. Knock Out looked back down at his work. Honestly, he needed about twenty more servos and a shot of high grade, but this would have to do.

"I can't induce stasis. I'm going to need you to hold the next twenty or so down while I splice their lines together and weld their plating shut. Think you can manage it?"

There wasn't an immediate answer and the medic's anxiety returned. It was too much to ask for, wasn't it? Like he thought before, no one liked watching a live surgery and he couldn't blame Breakdown. But, he wouldn't be able to pull this off alone and he was too nervous now to look up and confirm if that were true. The medic's frame gave a brief, involuntary tremor.

"Breakdown?" he queried apprehensively as he dared to glance up from the seal he completed on the last of his inert patients. To his surprise, the larger mech was already in position over the next subject; firmly holding the less than pleased mech in place.

"Ready when you are."

"Right," Knock Out said with near giddy assurance as he set to work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Enter the Complimentary Follow-up**

Chapter Four

Onslaught smiled.

What used to be just another occasion for chaotic death had turned into a system of orderly care. It was everything he'd hoped it be and more. When all was said and done, seventy percent of the wounded troops were treated and stabilized by the young doctor. Usually, most units had a causality rate of eighty or so depending on the battle, but here were sixty-two soldiers ready to fight again as a result of introducing one mech. It was proof medics could be the key to winning this war; an example of the potential he'd been trying to convince others of; a perspective he ultimately hoped Megatron himself would embrace.

Thundercracker gaped.

He couldn't believe this hasty venture had actually worked. Everyone knew Onslaught's views on medical care were quite positive, but they also knew Megatron's were not. So, Thundercracker was less than thrilled when Onslaught sprang this little proposal on him. It was just after hearing Breakdown's account of a young medic in the area. Having an audience with the leader of the Decepticons was taxing enough, but to tack on a rushed demonstration to persuade the leader's opinion without knowing the full outcome . . .

Well, it was an endeavor that could cost both officers their ranks if not their sparks. Thundercracker agonized over Onslaught's choice of an unseasoned medic who would most likely crack under pressure. He thought for sure it would fail. For once, the Air Leader was happy to see he was wrong.

Onslaught gave Thundercracker a small nod; the latter giving a wary smile. Both gave the observation deck above a respectful bow. After a moment, they each received a ping of approval over their communication links.

The gamble paid off.

"I suppose we should go congratulate our newest recruit," Onslaught stated as he moved forward. Thundercracker followed suit begrudgingly. They made their way over to Knock Out who was busy cleaning up alongside Breakdown and, surprisingly, joking with the bulky warrior. The seeker sneered.

"Well, you've certainly shown you're worth the trouble, doctor."

The red mech paused in his work and regarded the officer with searching optics until he settled on a smug grin.

"Why, thank you, Air Leader. I've always been quite good at showing others a thing or two," Knock Out said with just the right mix of gratitude and contempt to pass as congenial. Breakdown scarcely stifled a laugh. It was always amusing to see the condescending Air Leader get knocked down a peg, especially by a ground-based bot.

Thundercracker grunted as he pushed past the medic to continue on his way. Onslaught regarded the doctor.

"Not bad, Knock Out. Keep this up and you'll find advancement in our ranks sooner than you think."

"Thank you," the medic said with a charming smile—now, he knew he nailed it.

"I want you to follow me to the main assemblage. Breakdown can finish cleaning up here . . ." Onslaught started before pausing. He saw the developing request in the medic's optics.

"You want Breakdown to accompany us, don't you?"

Knock Out didn't answer immediately. Honestly, he was surprised Onslaught picked up on that. After all, he had just met these individuals. Was he really that easy to read?

"Well, no disrespect, but the big guy did drag me into all this. Might as well finish what you start," Knock Out said with wry humor. Onslaught merely nodded and gestured for some soldiers to come over.

"Finish clearing the hanger and bring this equipment back to our new infirmary."

The three fighters stood with expressions of confusion. Onslaught sighed and shook his head.

"Storage bay number three," he stated simply. That seemed to clear up the misunderstanding and the soldiers set to work. Onslaught moved off back towards the bunker entrance. Knock Out and Breakdown quickly followed.

As the trio moved down corridors, the medic let out a sorted vent. The last few kliks had been a maelstrom of activity for him. Between hiding from blaster fire in an abandoned clinic, being dragged into a military outfit against his will, and having to perform slap-dash surgeries on the whims of commanding officers, he didn't know where to start processing. One moment he was gallivanting Cybertron with only his various skills to protect him and now he was trailing after some Decepticon General with . . . well, only his various skills to protect him . . .

A genuine smile came over him. Maybe he was looking at this the wrong way; approaching it from the wrong angle. He could change that; he was going to.

"General Onslaught, sir?" he said with all the dutifulness of a good soldier. Breakdown took on a skeptical look. This couldn't be the same bot that was complaining no less than a klik ago about where the leadership around here could stick it.

"Yes?" Onslaught stated as he continued to walk. Knock Out clasped his servos behind his back and took up a more unassuming posture.

"I've passed quite a few spaces on my way down to the hanger. I believe they would make for more suitable accommodations as a medical wing."

"Agreed," Onslaught said as he stopped in the large assembly room. Both Knock Out and Breakdown stopped behind him; each looking surprised.

"Um, thank you, general, though, I must admit, I thought it was going to take a little more convincing than that," the medic said candidly as he unclasped his servos and put on a look of suspicion.

"Well, it helps that your presence here was the original intent," Onslaught said as he turned to face them. Knock Out shifted his weight awkwardly. There seemed to be a thin line between favor and manipulation when it came to the Decepticons. He would need to remember that in future dealings, but for now, he would have to settle for what he had.

"Speaking of intentions, what will my role here be?" Knock Out asked matter of fact.

"I want you to develop a subtle, but persuasive means of recruiting future medics to our cause, starting with that little team of surgeons you were with."

Knock Out tried to keep the disbelief out of his expression, but he couldn't stop the widening of his optics. Did they really expect him to lure others into this mess? Yes; yes, of course, they did.

"Alright. When would you like me to start?" he stated simply, so as not to betray his disdain for the task. Onslaught nodded in approval.

"As soon as possible. I'll have a squadron escort you to Uraya, was it?" the officer said before turning to address Breakdown, "And since it appears our good doctor is safe and sound, you've finished what you started. Now, I want you to report to Brawl in the armory. He's informed me he has room for you on the Delta Division."

Breakdown's optics drifted down and caught Knock Out's briefly before he looked back up at Onslaught somberly.

"Yes, sir," he stated, turning to exit. Knock Out cleared his vocalizer.

"Actually, I'd rather retain Breakdown as my assistant and scratch the squadron."

Breakdown stopped and Onslaught jerked his helm down. The request took them both by surprise.

"Really?" Breakdown asked with prospect in his voice. This sounded like the start of something new.

"Really?" Onslaught asked with cynicism in his. This sounded like the setup of nothing good.

"Yes, if it's all the same to you, general," Knock Out replied with uncertainty. Maybe he was being too presumptuous again?

"It isn't all the same," Onslaught said coldly.

Yup, defiantly presumptuous.

"I apologize . . ." Knock Out began until the giant mech took a step forward to tower over him.

"Let me make your situation perfectly clear to you. This is my unit. I not only have the authority to tell you what to do I have the power to back it up. I consider myself fair; you're new and you've proven yourself an asset, but don't you ever forget who's in charge," Onslaught stated formidably. Knock Out could only eke out a curt nod, but not because of fear. He hadn't been spoken to like that in ages, and he hated it.

The general stepped back towards Breakdown who did look apprehensive. He knew the Delta Division wasn't exactly meant for winning battles. It was more or less the first squadron on the battlefield and the first warriors to die. In other words, even with these upgrades, he was still being treated as expendable by his comrades in arms here.

"Now, find Brawl and have him send me up some fighters to take him to . . ."

"Excuse me, chief. I can see strategy's your forte, so, if I'm to go on some covert mission to procure more medical staff for your unit, wouldn't it make more sense for me to go with a single medical assistant than a convoy of badge-wearing militia?" Knock Out interrupted with a drawl. Once again, both larger mechs looked at the medic with astonishment.

"What?!" Onslaught demanded as Breakdown could be seen miming the words _what are you doing_. Knock Out smirked.

"Doesn't exactly scream stealth, now does it?"

"Acknowledged," a gravelly voice said from behind them all. The trio turned in shock to see an enormous, gun-metal grey mech looming over them. Knock Out was more surprised a cybertronian of that size could move so quietly.

"Thank you, um . . ." he responded with validation, not realizing who he was speaking to. That all changed once he noticed Breakdown and Onslaught were now bowing. Ah, he knew the downright intimidating gladiator build looked familiar, but that left his processor spinning at the speed of light trying to come up with the appropriate title he'd heard others use.

"Lord Megatron," he added dutifully—if not awkwardly—as he took his own pronounced bow of respect. His features were composed but his spark was rattling. Dealing with Onslaught was one thing, but no one had said anything about _the_ Megatron being here, did they?!

"Why of course, _doctor_ ," Megatron stated evenly as the three mechs rose again. Knock Out tried to appear gracious, but there was just something about the way the Decepticon leader said doctor that caused his inner workings to coil up. His resolve to look unfazed was crumbling fast—something that didn't go unnoticed by Breakdown or Onslaught. They knew Megatron would pick up on the medic's nervousness and perceive it as weakness. It was Breakdown who decided to mediate.

"Lord Megatron, this is Knock Out and he's not just a doctor. I hear he comes with quite the list of qualifications," the warrior said trying to sound nonchalant. Onslaught was actually impressed by Breakdown's ability to recover, but angry that it was on behalf of the mech who'd just opposed him. Still, it was his idea to bring the medic here, so Onslaught quickly supplied Megatron with a datapad holding Knock Out's dossier. While viewing the contents of the device, the former gladiator of Kaon periodically glanced down at the smallest mech among them, occasionally making noncommittal sounds.

Knock Out was having a difficult time determining whether the gestures were of curiosity or scrutiny. The medic was also truly concerned about the phrase _just a doctor_ now _._ Was being of the medical persuasion a bad thing? His processor began to whirl again. They didn't have a proper infirmary, barely anyone here had any first aid experience and he hadn't seen body nor bolt of a medical professional anywhere. Conversely, there were tons of armories, everybody seemed to have armed and dangerous etched in their sparks and there appeared to be sacrificial warrior types at every turn . . . Ah, scrap, this was bad.

"You've demonstrated your ability to command medical situations adequately enough, _doctor_ , but if you're to serve as our brand of _field_ _medic_ you'll need a warrior's training; something, I believe, you may be lacking the necessary credentials in."

Knock Out stared up at the leader, struggling desperately to keep the combination of horror and confusion off his faceplates. They expected him to run out there and die, didn't they? No, no; that wouldn't make sense, would it?

Breakdown took up a stoic position beside the doctor because he would finish what he started. Megatron stared at the two for a moment in silence. Finally, he smiled before passing the datapad back to a troubled Onslaught.

"However, your request shows foresight and cunning, traits I admire. Breakdown should be more than able to provide adequate _safeguarding_ until you have what it takes. I welcome you to the Decepticons, Knock Out."


End file.
